


Forgiveness

by sansakatara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Also if you think Sansa was responsible for Ladys death.... fuck off cause that's not the case, Angst, I don't hate Ned but I'll never forgive him for Lady, Lady deserves better, Ned Stark critical, Sansa Stark Deserves Better, Sansa's grief for Lady is addressed, She's not responsible for Lady any more than Arya is for Mycah's thank you very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansakatara/pseuds/sansakatara
Summary: “And you should not have killed Lady.”
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Ned Stark & Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Forgiveness

“You have juice on your face, your Grace.”  
Suddenly it is too much for Sansa. She feels the juice clinging to her dress, staining the material; ruining it. Ruining it the way Arya always ruins things- and the stain almost looks like blood, and it makes her think of her sweet Lady; how she had begged her father to refuse the king- how she never even got to say goodbye. And the anger she has concealed since the Trident beyond a few sullen remarks to Arya and the distance she had crafted between them comes erupting to the surface; and the words fly out before she can catch them.  
“They should have killed you, not Lady!”  
“Sansa!”  
Sansa whips around, to see that their father has now entered the room; looking thunderous. Sansa’s heart is beating rapidly and her face is flushed – but it is too late.  
“Sansa, go to your room. I will talk with you later.” Her father orders.  
“What about her?” Sansa points her finger at Arya. “She ruined my dress!” It’s not really about the dress, they all know it- but Sansa does not know what else to say.  
“Sansa.” Ned Stark said, in a voice that brooked no argument. “I will deal with your sister. Just go.” Sansa casts one parting glance at Arya, who has been staring at them with wide eyes and biting her lip so hard that it bled. Sansa feels tears come unbidden to her eyes, but she cannot cry here.

She takes herself to her chambers, and it is only when the heavy wooden door bars Sansa from the world outside that she takes her dress off and throws it into a corner in a fury. That might have been something Arya may have done, Sansa knew- but she did not care. She thought of Lady again, and a gave a strangled sob, before throwing herself onto the bed.  
The knock on the door pulled her from her sleep. “Sansa?” It was her father’s voice. He did not sound angry.  
Sansa sat up, putting a hand to her face. A quick glance in the mirror beside her bed revealed to her that her eyes were still red from crying.  
“May I have a moment, Father? If you would be so good.” Sansa said.  
“Very well.” Her father replied.

Sansa washed her face, tracing away any evidence that might betray her tears. She smoothed her hair, before putting on a dress that she had always favoured. Once she felt satisfied, she opened the door to her father.  
Lord Eddard Stark came into the chambers. He sat on Sansa’s bed, and patted it beside him- almost as if he wanted Sansa to sit there. But something kept Sansa rooted to the spot, and she shook her head.  
Lord Eddard sighed. “Sansa, you should not have said that to your sister.”  
Sansa bits her tongue. Her father was right. She had never said anything like that in her entire life. It had just slipped out. Shame burns within her, but her anger is a greater flame and when she looks at her father- who looks so much like her sister, she feels as though it will set everything to a blaze.  
“And you should not have killed Lady.”  
Her father grimaced. “Sansa, I- “  
“No.” Sansa has never interrupted her father before. She can almost hear Septa Mordane admonishing her, but she cannot find it in herself to care. She is tired- tired of everything, tired of pretending that she doesn’t wake up every morning- half excepting Lady to still be there, before realizing with a cold squeeze to the heart that Lady was gone.  
“You know I am right. You could have said no, I know you could have. The king was your friend, you could have made him see. You could have. Why didn’t you?” Sansa’s lip quivers, and she clenches her fist. She swallows, before continuing. 

“Arya’s wolf didn’t really run away by herself, did she?” She hadn’t really given much thought to Nymeria, so consumed with thinking of Lady. All she knew was that Arya’s wolf was gone, and hers was dead. But now the truth of it was dawning on her, and she needed to see it confirmed.  
She had only to look at her father to know she had the right of it. “No, she didn’t.”  
Sansa nodded. Arya must have been driven her off. If only I could have done the same for Lady.  
“And what did you tell Arya?”  
“I told her there is sometimes honor… in telling a lie.”  
Sansa dug her fingernails into her palm. Honor. Her father had said he would see to Lady, not Ser Illyn. She deserves better than a butcher. Honor was a hollow comfort.  
“Then why didn’t you do the same for Lady? You said there’s honor in sometimes lying.” Sansa was almost shaking. “You could have lied; you could have sent Lady away…. “She is crying openly now.  
“Sansa, I- “Her father’s shoulders slump. Sansa realizes she has never seen him like this before, ashamed.  
“You should have protected Lady!” Sansa flared. Shouting was something Arya did, not Sansa. But Sansa does not care. She hasn’t felt the same since Lady. She cannot put it into words, but she feels as though a part of her was ripped away when Lady died. Lady who she loved so much, who felt close to Sansa as her own flesh and as distant as the heavens. She needed to have her father to understand what he’d done.  
“You’re right. Sansa, I am so terribly sorry. I will never forgive myself for what I did to you and Lady.” Her father looks so pained and that might have softened Sansa towards him, but not this time.

Sansa turns away. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing. But… I don’t think I can ever forgive you for Lady. I just can’t.” She says softly, admitting out loud to herself what had she had known since that day.  
Her father reaches for her, but thinks better of it. Nodding at Sansa, almost as if in defeat, he leaves the room, closing the door gently behind him. There is an unspoken agreement between them that the conversation has ended there.  
Sansa’s words prove true. Arya and her will forgive each other for their childish squabbles and resentments, and Sansa’s forgiving herself for trusting Cersei and her failure to save her father will take years- but she will never truly forgive her father for Lady, either.


End file.
